Silver Handprints and Lavender
by Argent
Summary: Michael watches and leaves marks


Silver handprints and Lavender.  
  
By Lisa  
  
Rated with a G  
  
All the Characters © other then me  
  
1 M&M (angst)  
  
Michael watches and leaves marks.  
  
As always, to Sara for being her unique self.  
  
  
  
Silver Handprints  
  
He watched her, watched her as she entered the shady bar along with the friend from her youth and the vision of them together made him remember, remember all to well the days of his youth.  
  
He remembered all of them, all of the times they had spent protecting each other, protecting the ungrateful planet the humans called earth.  
  
He remembered the loves that had been shared, the hearts that had been broken and he remembered the guilt he had felt that day.  
  
The day they had left, left to the stars that had once given them to this earth, the stars that had held memories of love and hatred, war and peace – the same memories, they had realized, that earth held too.  
  
They had returned only to find that everything had changed.  
  
Changed in ways neither of them had thought at their home in the stars.  
  
Therefore he watched.  
  
Watched the glimmer of her golden bangs in the dim light of the crowded bar, the curl of her lips as she smiled, the twinkle in her eyes – He watched.  
  
Sometimes he followed her home, watch her walk into the arms of the man that was her husband and jealousy haunted him as he watched their loving embrace.  
  
Sometimes he watched as she played in the park with her child. He watched their golden heads bent together as they shared secrets and he watched as they played, the same twinkle in the eyes of mother and daughter.  
  
He knew her daughter's eyes were not the same emerald as her own but the same color as melted chocolate. Eyes like his own, and sometimes he found that he wished for the thought to be true.  
  
Sometimes she had almost seen him.  
  
Yet he watched, silently and always from distance.  
  
He didn't interfere with her life, she had settled down, found her peace of heaven. He cared too much to take that away from her.  
  
When night fell he would always tore himself away from the windows of her house, not wanting to see the shadows of her and –  
  
  
  
He sipped his glass of Tonic.  
  
Watched the failed attempts of the men that tried to enter the close circle that was the two childhood friends.  
  
Watched her laugh and wanted to hold that moment forever, secure it in colors as intense as her.  
  
In his loft, alone at night, he had tried to catch the essence of her, her temperament, her lust for life, her spirit. He had painted her as he remembered from evenings spent in the their booth. He had painted her as he remembered her from the evenings she had willingly risked her life.  
  
Those paintings were his private part of heaven.  
  
Those were his private part of hell.  
  
He saw the two of them rise, saw them making their way towards the exit and silently promised her turned back that nothing would happen, not now, not ever.  
  
He rose, followed them, followed her –  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Through the glassed door he watched them.  
  
Watched them as they huddled together as to reassure each other that everything would be – That everything would be just as before.  
  
He watched as the man ran his finger through the golden hair of his wife, letting the hand drop on her knee taking her hand, holding it.  
  
A twinge of jealousy blurred his vision.  
  
He would be the man that held her, that reassured her, that –  
  
He wasn't.  
  
He tore his eyes away from the picture and entered the secured room that held the little girl with chocolate brown eyes.  
  
He had seen his leader sacrifice himself for the life of his sister only to once again return in all his glory. He had seen blood as red as the sunrise wash the fields of his homeworld yet he had never been scared.  
  
The smell in the room scared him, the smell of hurt, the smell of death.  
  
He hesitated.  
  
Then gentle placed his hand just above the little girl's heart.  
  
He had always been the warrior, the one that had acted. He had never been a healer like his leader though through the years he had learned, learned the way of patience, learned the way of love.  
  
He felt the power that surged through him, willed it to heal the girl asleep under his touch.  
  
It poured through his veins to her, emptied him, and at the same time filled him with images of her and as he pulled away he knew.  
  
He smoothed her hair away from her face and traced the lines, memorized them.  
  
The silver handprint –  
  
Her mother would know yet it didn't matter.  
  
With one last glance at the angelic face of his daughter he turned and walked away, tears in his eyes.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
She rose slowly, willed her tired muscles to move. Walked the few steps to her daughter's room and opened the door.  
  
Her eyes blurred as she saw the golden curls of her daughter, her only reminiscence of hot dust and endless stargazing.  
  
She could not lose her.  
  
She could not –  
  
She gently smoothed the little girl's hair away from her face and traced the lines, memorized them.  
  
She felt a flicker.  
  
An eyelid that opened slowly only to be followed by the other.  
  
"Mommy."  
  
She cried, salt tears of happiness trailed her face.  
  
"Mommy there was an angel here."  
  
Her little alien had awoken.  
  
"An angel honey?"  
  
"Yeah he left a mark, see?"  
  
The little girl had pulled up her green hospital gown and above her heart was the mark – a hand printed in silver.  
  
"You see it mom?"  
  
She cried and thoughts of the past rushed through her mind. A past that she had thought forgotten at least buried.  
  
"Michael."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
2 Lavender  
  
  
  
She had used to love the summer. Loved the way the children ran, the scents of freshness that was everywhere. Loved the sureness of earth that made it ripe in colors and vibrant in essence before the autumn would chase it away.  
  
Lilies and roses, scents of jasmine and lavender had once filled her heart and she had felt loved in ways never to be retrieved.  
  
Never –  
  
  
  
She used her worn jeans to rub the dirt of her hands. Watched as the soil colored them in shades of the earth as her eyes shimmered with tears.  
  
Tears that had been unshed. Tears for the love she had once knew. The love that still burned in her heart and she ached.  
  
  
  
Scents of jasmine and lavender had been her aching pleasure over time passed. A pleasure that had never brought her bliss, only shadows of the past.  
  
Shadows that hunted her in her dreams, made her whisper names she had thought long forgot and she had remembered.  
  
Remembered why jasmine and lavender never was enough. Remembered why the children that ran and the sureness of the earth had stopped to bring her bliss. Remembered why she had used to love the summer.  
  
  
  
The summers had been theirs. Filled with heated quarrels and passion, of love and lavender. In spring, autumn and winter their love had been crushed by the destiny of him and they had been separated.  
  
She had lived only for the summers, for the feel of his flesh on her own. The soft sound of his laughter and the silence of the night as they had lay in each other's arms.  
  
When he had left he had taken the summers with him and she had been left with only the memories of summers spent and something else.  
  
In distance she could hear the soft laughter of her daughter and as a deeper laugh joined she ached at the harmony they contrived.  
  
Ached at the girl inside that watched the stars before sleep, not knowing why. Ached for the man that had taken care of them and yet never been loved himself.  
  
Sometimes she had wished upon a star. Wished for a chance to once again be her youthful self. A self that wasn't hunted, that wasn't changed.  
  
She knew that some wondered were the hurricane that had been her had escaped and she would let them wonder.  
  
She had changed in ways she had never thought. Perhaps she had found her little piece of heaven in her family, in the man that wowed never to leave her, in the angelic face of her daughter so much alike her father – She didn't know.  
  
Sometimes she had wished upon a star that her love would return and every time she ached some more. Reality was astringent.  
  
Now when she would close her eyes an image of a silvery handprint would dance behind her eyes. Telling tales of happy endings, happy endings she would not – could not believe.  
  
Inside the laughter had subdued and she rose slowly, whipping the tears from her eyes and walked inside.  
  
As she entered her golden girl twirled around and ran towards her, hugging her tightly.  
  
"Mommy, you know what dad promised?"  
  
Eleven years ago something had been taken from her and she had received a legacy, wonderful in every aspect.  
  
One week ago that legacy had almost been taken and she had been given another chance. The stars had fallen from the sky.  
  
Could she rise from earth?  
  
She watched the golden curl of her daughter, her petite face, soulful brown eyes and smiled.  
  
"No cheesehead I don't."  
  
Her eyes met the eyes of her husband, eyes that told of love and commitment, eyes that told of understanding.  
  
Could she rise from earth?  
  
  
  
*  
  
He watched.  
  
Watched her cry, heard the laughter from inside.  
  
Watched as she walked inside.  
  
He watched.  
  
  
  
-- The End -- 


End file.
